


There Will Never Be A Better Goodbye (than the one we just had)

by orphan_account



Category: Third Star, Third Star (2010)
Genre: Barafundle Bay, Cancer, Death, Drowning, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Sad, Sea, Third Star - Freeform, Wales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We should call the police.” His voice was croaky when at last Miles spoke. “There’s an emergency phone a bit further up,” he gestured vaguely toward the top of the sand. </p><p>“And say <em>what</em>?” Davy’s aggression lasted, even as grief withered his face as he turned and took the four steps that placed him beside Miles. “That you just swam out into the middle of the bay with your sick friend and drowned him in the waves?” </p><p>“No,” Bill spoke up, lower than the two of them as he remained crouched down with James’ head on his lap. “We do what Jim wanted; we tell them what he said to tell them.” </p><p>“<em>It’s a lie</em>.” Davy said with teeth gritted and wide eyes refusing to dry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Will Never Be A Better Goodbye (than the one we just had)

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a writer by any means but I hope that you will like this small piece of my "Third Star headcanon" though I think that my Tom Burke crush might be showing.

The silence came as Miles broke down. 

In his arms, Bill held James so tightly it was hard to fathom where one man ended and the other began; a tangle of wet limbs on the shoreline, the face of one serene and paling, the other grappling a plethora of emotions that were beyond definition. 

Davy kept his hands in his pockets to lock his fingers away - there had to be something to stop him attempting a crude form of CPR on the lifeless, leggy creature that bobbed as the waves crashed, his head resting on Bill’s chest, his eyes closed. 

There was no noise; no sobbing, no breaking waves, no wind nor calls of birds overhead. Morning had broken and silence remained with them, a quiet so thick it filled their ears with the hollow emptiness of seashells without the rush of the ocean. 

There was a finality to the pain, catharsis coming where Miles wondered if there should be sorrow. He sat in the waist-deep, cool water of Barafundle Bay and considered the last three days. He’d never pictured this when James had got sick at the start; cancer frightened him - he knew what it could do - but there was a portion of his brain that danced around the naive notion that a terminal diagnosis could be overturned. His Dad could have been unlucky. Jim might just...

Everything had changed - he had been forced to face realities he had been sweeping under the carpet for months and there was relief in it. He and James had said goodbye without the word, righted their wrongs with one another and it felt like he had given him the best birthday present he ever could. The pain existed, but it was so much smaller than he’d anticipated. He had stepped up, been brave when he needed to be, and was rewarded with knowing that Jim was ok now.

He should be grieving - he considered that there should be horrific, aching sobs in his chest but all there was was a strong heartbeat of an irregular rhythm and silence. He felt numb but he knew that he was definitely not sad. God, he would miss him - that much was certain - but he had been expecting an end for James for so long that it didn’t feel as much of a saddening, shocking jolt as it might have been had James drowned and not been sick for so long. The death had been expected and so it wasn’t supposed to hurt. It didn’t hurt, but it would be different. Life would be...emptier. 

Davy cried. Davy cried with heavy tears that dripped from his lashes and rolled down his cheeks in thick lines. He narrowed his lips to a thin line, biting them on the inside between his teeth, and screwed his eyes closed as his chest fought to inhale and exhale the excessive amount of air his crying produced. Davy had never wanted it, disagreed to the last moment, but had swam out just as Miles and Bill had. He hadn’t wanted to let James go at all but he didn’t want him to go without him there. He’s screamed from the shore when Bill brought him back and the sound had stayed with Miles, even as he pushed James’ shoulders further beneath the black water. Davy would hate him for a long time, despite this being what James had wanted to do. 

Bill was the first person to find himself in the chaos, rising awkwardly to his knees in the dragging tide to then get bumblingly to his feet. He held James against him, soaking and beginning to get cold, and dragged his limp body further up the sand, right away from the break of the waves. After a moment, Miles followed, his chest beginning to draw breath in quickly as tears from relief and confusion began to fall more readily from his eyes. Davy lingered on the shoreline for a while longer and Bill still had James close. It seemed fitting that he would, too: Bill was the fixer, the man in the middle who settled the arguments between the others, the glue of the foursome who never failed to bond the boys. When things went wrong, Bill was impartial and he remained the saviour. 

“We should call the police.” His voice was croaky when at last Miles spoke. “There’s an emergency phone a bit further up,” he gestured vaguely toward the top of the sand. 

“And say _what_?” Davy’s aggression lasted, even as grief withered his face as he turned and took the four steps that placed him beside Miles. “That you just swam out into the middle of the bay with your sick friend and drowned him in the waves?” 

“No,” Bill spoke up, lower than the two of them as he remained crouched down with James’ head on his lap. “We do what Jim wanted; we tell them what he said to tell them.” 

“ _It’s a lie_.” Davy said with teeth gritted and wide eyes refusing to dry. 

“It’s James’ truth,” Miles turned on him, piqued. “This is our friend, Davy, yeah? What else do you want us to do, leave him here? Push him out for a burial at sea and refuse his family the right to bury him, refuse _us_ that right?” 

“He shouldn’t be dead!” Davy’s arms flew out, his wet, white shirt cold against his skin. “We shouldn’t have agreed, we shouldn’t have let him.” 

“ _We_ being the operative word, mate,” Miles softened and took a step closer to Davy. He reached out, his hand coming to rest first on Davy’s shoulder then on his neck as he pulled him against himself, hugging the shaking man to him. “We’re all in this together and we need to do what James wanted. We need to call the police or...or at least an ambulance and then we need to call his parents.” 

His head on Miles’ shoulder, the weight left Davy’s body and he gave himself up to the bit of comfort in his grief. His arms rested around Miles’ back and he let himself cry deeply for a moment before doing what he could to stabilise his emotions and pulled back from the hug. 

“You two go up the beach, find the phone,” Bill spoke up, “I’ll stay here with James.” 

“No,” Davy shook his head, “You two stay, I’ll phone.” He insisted, pushing his feet into the boots he’d discarded before swimming out with James. “Um, I’ll tell them what he said, that we woke up and he was gone and we search everywhere before we saw something in the water and when we swam out and realised it was him, it was too late. I’ll-I’ll tell them that....” he licked his bottom lip as it quivered, “I’ll tell them that he’s dead and we need to bring him home.” 

Miles placed his hand on Davy’s shoulder again and nodded. 

“I can’t phone his parents, though; I can’t be the one to tell them,” He paused, about to head up the beach. 

“I can,” Miles promised, strong and steady, a rock. “I can do that.” 

Davy breathed in shakily and gave one, firm nod in Miles’ direction before he began walking slowly toward the top of the beach. There was no rush, it would not change a thing and the longer he was away the more he could gather himself, the more he could distance himself and the longer he had to think. None of this made sense, there was no rationality to be found in any of this trip, and at the same time James’ words rang out in his mind. 

_“There will never be a better goodbye than the one we just had.”_

And then it made sense to him, it was clear, it was understandable. It was no less sad, it was no less painful and the void wouldn’t suddenly be closed, but he finally got it. He got what Miles had got when he kicked off his shoes and waded out into the water, he got what Bill had got when he sat with James’ lifeless body on the edge before they even stepped into the cold sea. He got it. James was already gone, long before that, and he finally got that now.


End file.
